In Articulo Mortis
by Vainglorious Facade
Summary: Ten years ago, Dash's brother Dane vanished on assignment in the Middle East. When present day Dash wishes he could be with his brother again, Desiree decides to bring Dane back as a halfa. He could be a powerful ally for good if he doesn't promptly get corrupted by Vlad. Then he falls in love with Jazz, and everything gets complicated. Well, more complicated.


**AN:** So, this was originally going to be like an opening scene, but it's so long I think it constitutes a prologue/chapter in its' own right. I promise, we will get to Dash's wish and how things snowball from there in the next chapter. This is just too long to be a flashback and the story seemed awkward without it. Try to bear with me.

Also, hi there. This is my first story in nearly three years, and I'm sure you're all already cringing at the pretense of the story. I apologize in advance if this gets bad or makes Dash OOC, and welcome all constructive criticism, advice, and suggestions. Feedback helps a writer grow, after all. Thank you for taking the time to read this.

* * *

"For the last time, Dash, I'll be fine. Quit hovering and let me pack."

"But Dane," Dash objected, using some effort to heft himself onto his brother's bed, "Dad says the Middle East is where all the bad guys are. You can't go there!"

"They're not all bad guys over there, so watch your mouth," Dane reprimanded him icily, and Dash shut his mouth immediately. His tone of voice brooked no argument, least of all from kids. He could command CIA Agents with that voice, and often did. The older blonde sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I was aware of all the risks inherent in the job when I signed up for it. Someone has to keep you and all the other idiots here safe so I have football to go with my turkey this Thanksgiving."

The joke went right over the five year old's head. Most of what Dane said did, honestly, but a surprising and alarming amount of it landed. He knew, for instance, the Middle East was dangerous and there were bad guys over there and his brother was a good guy. "Can't the CIA find someone else?"

"No. These are my assets," he paused, trying to put it into language his kid brother could understand. "My friends, my people, people who I put out there into some of the most dangerous places on the planet. They don't trust anyone but me. Anyone else, even from the CIA, wouldn't cut it. It has to be me. Do you really think I would drop everything and leave if I had any other choice?"

Well, no, but... "Your mom left. And so did mine."

He cringed, seal brown eyes shutting for a moment as he rubbed his temples. "Thanks for that reminder. Look, Dad needs someone here to keep his spirits up. You know how easy it is for him to go off the deep end. I need you here on the ground."

Dash studied his brother's face. Dane had always been like this, at least that Dash remembered. His brother was much older than he was, and had always been working for the CIA as far back as Dash could remember. Though Dash was aware their Dad was much older than other dads and only looked younger because he exercised a lot, he rarely really understood just how old Dane was. Other kids had big brothers and sisters in other grades or made middle school. Dane was twenty one when Dash was born. He was a grown up, and he talked like it. More frighteningly, he talked more and more in terms Dash didn't understand. Lately the older Baxter sibling had barely stopped by their place to do much more than sleep or remind their father to take his pills. _On the ground, assets, cost-benefit analysis, _and _classified_ had slipped into his vocabulary so much even Dash had started to use the words without knowing what they meant.

But he knew what his brother meant. He needed Dash here to remind their father not to skip on his medication. More importantly, he needed Dash here to keep their father from getting too paranoid and stressed out. It wasn't good for his heart. He was an older dad, to be kind. He needed to stay as stress free as possible. If Dash thought it would get Dane to stay he'd point out that going off to somewhere in the Middle East for an undisclosed amount of time to an undisclosed location for classified reasons was going to stress their father out no matter what.

Dane already had bags under his eyes and was surviving on a steady diet of coffee. He had quit smiling lately. Everyone had quit smiling ever since September 11th. All of Dane's friends from work looked more and more tired. Dash had listened in on Dane talking to his boss one night. _"Of course everyone's being paranoid. You had us convinced we knew what was coming. Nobody can trust anybody anymore. This will only get worse before it gets better, especially if you put Project Idolon into effect."_ Dash didn't know what it meant, not all of it, but he'd felt a kind of helpless horror at the tone in Dane's voice. He sounded so cold, so resigned, so unlike the big brother everybody mistook for his father at the playground.

And now he was going to go off to where the bad guys were and Dash was so scared he couldn't sleep either. It was nearly midnight. Dane's flight was scheduled for three thirty in the morning. He had on a suit and everything. He looked like he could take on the world. But Dash still had nightmares about the towers falling and he still froze when he heard an airplane overhead. He was only five. He didn't understand. And nobody would explain any of it to him. Worse, even Dane's boss didn't know what was going on and if he didn't then who did? Did anyone? Dash felt tears brewing in his eyes.

"You can't go!" he burst out, hugging his brother suddenly with surprising strength. "I don't want to be alone!"

"You have Dad," Dane said gently, hugging him back with steady arms, all thin cord-like muscle and warmth. He scooped Dash up into his arms like he weighed nothing. "He loves you. And I love you, too. That's why I have to go. I have to keep you safe from the bad guys. It's my job." Dash just sobbed into his shoulder. Dane rubbed his back in circular patterns, sighing heavily. "Please quit crying. You know how freaked out Dad gets when anyone cries and you're supposed to be asleep by now, Dashie."

"I don't care what Dad thinks. Or your stupid boss, too. I need you here."

"Look, I'm coming back. It's not forever."

"Promise?" he looked up at his brother with bright blue eyes, inherited from his mother. Or at least, that was what their father said, anyway; Dash had never met her. The blonde hair was an anomaly in a brunette family; it was why so many people thought Dane was Dash's father. It was not an explanation for all the times Dane had deliberately _not_ corrected people who said or thought that. As their father became more and more unstable, Dane had become more and more present at school and at home when he could. Sometimes it was easy to get the words Dane and Dad mixed up. "Promise me you're coming home?"

Dane looked him dead in the eyes. "I promise. I'll be meddling in your life until at least college, Dashie." He ruffled Dash's hair, a strained smile on his face. "But until I get back, I have a present for you. Maybe it'll help you sleep at night." He set Dash down on the bed, producing a teddy bear from his dresser. "I know you're probably too old for it, but-"

"I love it," Dash assured him immediately, grabbing it from his hands. He held it close. "It smells like you."

The older Baxter laughed. "You're such a weird kid. I love you."

"I love you too, Dad."

He let the slip up slide. He always did. "Just remember to tape my soaps, okay? I'm going to need cheesy television and a decent hamburger once I'm back."

"I won't forget. Dad even wrote it down on the fridge: 'tape Dana's girly shows'." Dash chuckled. "Does your boss know he calls you that?"

"No, and God willing, he never will. Agent _Dana_ doesn't have quite the same ring to it," he snorted. He picked Dash up again, opening the door expertly with his foot. "Now _you_ need to get to bed. You have school in the morning. And I better not hear anything about you goofing off while I was gone."

He made the teddy bear mock-salute his brother. "Yes, _Agent_ Dane."

"You're stuck with football duty until I get back. Somebody has to cheer Dad up if his team loses. So your butt better be on the couch right beside him, am I clear?"

"Is that an order?" Dash asked, watching Dane roll his inky eyes. Dane always thought it was funny when Dash used any CIA terminology. All the grownups did. He didn't know why. He usually got it right now that he was getting older.

"Yeah. It's my last official order before I surrender my position to you. You are now authorized to boss Dad around like I did and must now promptly report for football duty in addition to handling the covert operation of recording all programming that falls under the category of soap opera."

Dash laughed. "You sound like you're at work."

"Oh, no. At work we swear a lot more," he told his brother, who looked suitably impressed. At five, curse words were serious business. Dane set his brother down on his own bed, smiling. "But you don't get to do that until I come back and authorize it. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Yes…?"

"Yes sir."

Dane smiled at him. Dash could be so serious sometimes. It was cute. He was growing up to be quite the little gentleman. He hoped it stayed like that. "Get some sleep. I love you."

"I love you too. Good night."

"Night, Dashie."

Despite the gentle closing of the door and the soft glow of the nightlight, Dash couldn't quite get to sleep. He laid awake, thinking about the stuff he'd have to do while Dane was gone. He was a big boy. He could remember all of it. Besides, Dane's friend-who-was-a-girl-but-not-a-girlfriend from work had said she'd stop by and visit while Dane was gone. Dash liked her. Sometimes when they were at the park people thought she was Dash's mom, and they were a family. He hugged the teddy bear closer to his chest, nerves starting to calm. She wouldn't let Dane do anything dangerous. She had told him so. And people at the CIA wouldn't lie to him. They were his brother's best friends. They were all the good guys. They knew what they were doing. He'd been away on business before. He'd come back and they'd watch those stupid shows Dane liked where everybody was making out with everybody.

Eventually, he drifted in and out of an unsteady sleep, clutching the bear in a death grip that gradually loosened, although he kept his nose to it, inhaling the faint mandarin orange scent that was trademark of his brother. Dane silently paused beside Dash's room on his way out, watching the rise and fall of his chest for a long moment. His golden hair was slicked back and his eyes were dark amber lit pools in the dim light.

"When I get back," he whispered softly, his voice a ghost of a sound in the silence of the night, "I'm going to tell you the truth about everything, Dashie. I promise."

Dash was never sure if he dreamed that last part or not, or what he meant by that.

Dane never made it back for him to ask.


End file.
